


join me, baby

by fnowae



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Soulmate AU, just...read this please, love this ship y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnowae/pseuds/fnowae
Summary: But the problem. The big, fucking problem that overshadows everything else right now is that - well, you're supposed to see the name of your soulmate. Yoursingularsoulmate. No plurals, no "s" at the end, no complications. But Patrick - now, here it is, the problem in its entirety - has woken up on the morning of his twenty-first birthday withtwonames on his wrist.





	join me, baby

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all on the way to Kilauea, because nothing inspires me to write gay fanfiction like an active volcano. I guess. 
> 
> Wanted to write a soulmate au for my OT3, and have for a while now, so...take this shit. Take it. Please. 
> 
> (Title from Dancing In The Dark by Imagine Dragons 'cause it's a BOP.)
> 
> Enjoy!

This is the problem - _the_ problem, the problem to end all problems, the biggest problem known to man in the twenty-first century, and probably ever. Because - because Patrick knows about all that "soulmate" bullshit he's been hearing since forever - when you turn twenty-one, the name of your soulmate appears on your wrist and you're supposed to find them and live happily ever after, and, you know, Patrick was actually kind of okay with it. It was weird and no one knew why the hell is happened, but it did, and in Patrick's mind it saved him the problem of relationship drama - if a life partner is pre-chosen for you from birth, you don't have to worry about fucking up relationships yourself. 

But the problem. The big, fucking problem that overshadows everything else right now is that - well, you're supposed to see the name of your soulmate. Your _singular_ soulmate. No plurals, no "s" at the end, no complications. But Patrick - now, here it is, the problem in its entirety - has woken up on the morning of his twenty-first birthday with _two_ names on his wrist. 

This is...well, it's certainly an issue. He isn't sure this is supposed to happen. He didn't think this _could_ happen. You're supposed to have one soulmate. Singular! He cannot stress this (to himself) enough. There should not, under any circumstances, be two names there. 

And even worse - even worse than Patrick's weird-ass double soulmate anomaly, somehow - is that he already _knows_ them. In fact, they're both somewhere on this shitty tour bus he's currently woken up in, because they're in the same band, because they're on tour, because they're _friends_ , they aren't supposed to be _more._

Nevertheless, the names on his wrist stare back at him. _Joe Trohman, Pete Wentz_ , yeah, he fucking _gets_ it already, he's supposed to end up spending his entire life with two of his closest friends. And not as friends. 

"Shut the fuck up," he says very grimly to the names, squeezing his face into a grimace. Someone yawns somewhere on the bus and Patrick instinctively pulls the sleeve of his shirt back down over his wrist so whoever it is doesn't get up and see. No one actually gets up, but he's glad for the excuse to stop staring at the names that are insistently on his wrist. 

And then - then something else occurs to him. Joe is younger than him, he's not twenty-one until September, so his wrist is still blessedly blank. But Pete. Pete is the problem here. Because, well, Pete's twenty-first birthday has come and gone and they all know that there's a name - or maybe, maybe, _names_ \- on his wrist, but Pete has never shown them, always covered it up. So - _so_ \- this is the next problem. It's...Pete _knows_. He has to know. And he's known for _years._ Patrick is consumed by bubbling anger, thinking that Pete has known about this - about this fucking unprecedented anomaly, this inconsistency, this, not to overuse the word, _problem_ \- for fucking years and he's said _nothing._

Unless - another horrifying thought hits Patrick now. Unless this is one of those times he's heard about where people gets one-sided soulmates, when someone is their soulmate but their soulmate has someone else. He's heard about them, dreaded that he might end up with that, and after this, after the two names, he wouldn't be surprised. Is it possible Pete has someone else? Is that why he hasn't mentioned it? Oh god, Patrick doesn't know if that's better or worse than the alternative that he actually-

"Morning!"

Patrick is cut off mid-thought by Pete's sudden materialization next to him, and he tugs his sleeve down further than he needs to when he realizes who's next to him. Pete. His fucking _soulmate_ \- probably - or, at least, one of them. And that's a scary thought. 

Pete catches sight of Patrick's evasive sleeve-tugging and his face falls in response. This is such a nail in the coffin to Patrick. It's obvious now - this isn't the one-sided mess he'd almost been hoping for. It's confirmed when Pete mutters, "It wasn't a fluke."

"Uh," Patrick says weakly, tugging his sleeve down so far the top of his shirt almost comes off his shoulder. Obviously Pete knows, but he still can't consider letting him see anyway. 

Pete slowly undoes the leather clasp that he wears around his wrist at all times, and they'd all taken it as him wanting to hide the writing on his wrist, for whatever reason, but Patrick never thought it could be because-

_Joe Trohman, Patrick Stump_ , the writing on Pete's wrist declares in the same sickly fancy font all the names come in. Patrick's stomach twists. 

He reluctantly pushes up his sleeve to show Pete his own brand-new mark, and Pete just nods, looking - well, looking _something_. Patrick thinks Pete may have invented a new emotion just for this particular situation. 

"This is-" Pete starts, then stops, like he's looking for a word that can possibly explain what this is, what this means, but there's nothing. This isn't supposed to happen. Why would there be a word for it?

Patrick just nods vaguely. He has so many questions. So many things he could say, so many things he could do, but what he actually does is spit out, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Pete's face twists. "I...I didn't think...I thought it was a fluke! I didn't know it could..." he takes a sharp breath, "I was waiting for you, I wanted to make sure it wasn't just something fucked up with me, I-"

"It's okay," Patrick tells him softly, because yeah, he gets that. He thinks, really, if he was in Pete's situation, he would have done the same. 

"What...what do we do about...?" The question hangs in the air, unfinished, but Patrick knows exactly what it means, somehow. 

"Should we...should we tell him?" he asks pitifully, eyes wide. He already knows the answer before Pete says it. 

"I don't know, what if he's not-" Pete's eyes are wider. "If it really is a fluke, and he has someone else, and we're just-"

"Yeah," Patrick agrees quietly, eyes dropping back to his wrist, where Pete's name now seems less jarring, but Joe's still seems to stare him in the face, challenging him to pretend it's not there. 

"Well, uh, we." Pete scratches the back of his neck. "At least we still have each other?"

Patrick lets himself smile a little and laugh at that, takes the chance to relax when it comes to him. "Yeah, yeah, okay." 

Pete hugs him, and Patrick lets the tension slip off him. He tells himself that, despite everything, it's going to be okay. 

Pete and Patrick...well, they do get together. They tell each other they won't, that it would be unfair to Joe in the event this isn't their fluke, their little weird anomaly, but they can't pretend they don't see each other's names on their wrists. They both mutually agree to temporarily pretend they don't see Joe's there as well. 

They tell everyone - everyone being the band, really, because there's absolutely no way they're being public about this - that they have each other's name on their skin, which isn't _exactly_ a lie, it's really more of a lie by omission. Which isn't nearly as bad, really. At least, that's what Patrick assures himself. 

The worst part is that Joe likes to make a point of teasing them about it. He makes jokes about how they were practically together already, and laughs about how, despite "telling people" what's written on their wrists, they still cover it up. They tell Joe that they want it to stay private, and that's why, but that doesn't justify the fact that they cover up while alone, too. Not that Joe ever pushes that far, which Patrick is thankful for. But it doesn't stop him from feeling like Joe's name is burning against his skin every time Joe asks about it. 

It's not like they don't think about telling him - both Pete and Patrick have brought it up late at night, lying in bed together, as they've gotten used to doing - but they just never do. The possibility Joe won't have either of their names on his wrist - or, maybe even worse, only one - hangs over any possibility of telling the truth. They inevitably decide, every time, that it's safer to wait until Joe's birthday, to let Joe's name or names or whatever the fuck tell Joe instead. 

An invisible countdown starts when they hit August. They know time is ticking, that if their names are going to be on Joe's wrist, it's going to happen soon. They hold out on not telling him, but the nearing date scares them more than either of them would like to admit. 

They're on tour again when the day comes. The album has blown up, and Pete and Patrick have been even more thorough with covering the names on their wrists, ever the more scared that someone will see and it will be the next big news story. It would bad enough if it was just them, if the biggest story was people bashing them for being - heaven forbid - not straight, but with Joe's name ever present too, it's worse than just that. It's not that they have a problem with it - god, no, they'd gotten over their issues as quickly as possible - but it's not hard to know that basically anyone else probably would. 

It's almost accident that the day before Joe's birthday, they tell Andy. They're sitting in the same room as Andy and forget he's there, and Pete says solemnly, "I can't believe we'll finally know tomorrow", and of course Andy asks what the hell they're talking about. Patrick figures he has no choice but to push up the sleeve of his sweater, and Pete follows suit and nervously removes the leather on his own arm. 

" _Oh,_ " Andy says softly, but doesn't quite look surprised. Because he's Andy, because that's just who he is, he understands everything with almost no help and doesn't care in the least. He nods just as solemnly as Pete had spoken and simply tells them, "Good luck."

This eases Patrick's nerves just the slightest, but not enough that his heart isn't pounding when he falls asleep in Pete's arms that night, his mind heavy with the knowledge that after months of speculating, they'll finally know tomorrow, for real, whether it's possible Joe is really their soulmate. 

They get their answer almost immediately, because the next morning they're woken up by someone shaking them awake and Joe's voice, quiet but still edging on hysterical, saying, "Okay, guys, what the fuck."

Patrick opens his eyes first, meeting Joe's, which are full of - well, he doesn't know. Surprise? Fear? Excitement? Patrick's brain is too sleep-ridden to tell yet. Joe's arm is hanging by his side, and he's not even bothering to cover the names - _plural!_ \- on his wrist. 

_Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz_ , the answer to the question that had hung over his head for months now, finally done and over with. 

Pete seems to have finally awoken as well, because he mumbles, "Oh, wow, okay."

"Show me." Joe's voice is insistent. He doesn't need to say what he means; Pete and Patrick know. 

Patrick sits up, and, with a sigh, holds out his arm, making sure the names are visible. Pete follows suit without bothering to sit up. 

"Is that even...can this even happen?" Joe asks quietly, blinking. His hand seems to have subconsciously moved to brush against his own wrist. 

"Apparently," Pete mutters, finally seeming to be awake enough to sit up. 

"You...why didn't you say anything?" Joe asks, hysteria slowly leaving his voice. Patrick dimly recalls asking Pete this same question months ago. And he gives the same answer Pete had. 

"We didn't know," he admits softly. "We didn't know if it was really - well, if it was really possible, and we thought it would be better, just in case..."

"If I didn't know," Joe finishes, biting his lip. He doesn't sound mad, really. He doesn't even sound upset. He sounds vaguely understanding, if anything. 

"Yeah," Patrick confirms. 

Joe falls silent, now deliberately rubbing his thumb across the writing on his wrist. Patrick's eyes drift back to it, and it's such a relief, that as complicated as this is, at least it's not _that_ complicated. He's thankful for that, as little reassurance as it really is. 

Pete, voice still sleepy, mumbles, "You wanna get in here or what?" 

Joe seems, well - not taken aback, but somewhat confused, at the least. 

Pete groans like he's annoyed and falls back down into the bed, pulling Patrick down with him, who yelps in surprise. "Now you know we're your soulmates, and really, the least you could do is get into this fucking bed. Please and thank you."

Joe doesn't protest, just shrugs and does exactly that. It's a little awkward at first, because they can't figure out how to all share the bed that isn't even meant for two, much less three, but somehow Joe ends up sandwiched between Pete and Patrick and it kind of works. 

"See? Isn't this nice?" Pete mumbles, straight into Joe's neck because of how tightly they're pressed together. 

"Isn't...isn't this weird?" Joe asks, a little nervously. 

Pete huffs. "Joseph fucking Trohman, the only weird thing here is how Patrick smells after he hasn't showered for days."

"Hey!" Patrick frowns. "Not like you're much better, asshole!"

Pete tries to stick his tongue out at Patrick, but because of his position only succeeds in licking Joe's neck, which gets him an elbow to the face from Joe. 

"Alright, alright, I deserved that," Pete mumbles, laughing. 

Joe chuckles. "You know what, you're right. I don't think this is weird at all."

"Yeah, except for how Patrick's hair looks when he sleeps on it wrong and-" Pete begins, but shuts up when Patrick skillfully manages to elbow him over Joe's face. 

"Again, I deserved that," Pete admits, but he's grinning. 

And, yeah. This really isn't weird at all.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, hmu on tumblr at vicesandvelociraptors and send me au ideas, headcanons for my fics, blah blah blah, etc. etc. 
> 
> and comment! please I love getting comments!
> 
> Thanks for reading !


End file.
